


Animal Magnetism

by Badwolf36



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Animals, Batfamily Feels, Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badwolf36/pseuds/Badwolf36
Summary: Damian's search for his pets leads him to some realizations about one Jason Todd.





	Animal Magnetism

“Pennyworth? Have you seen Alfred?”

Damian Wayne wanders into the kitchen, eyes roving the floor for his erstwhile feline. Sadly, there’s no sign of the black-and-white creature save for a tiny stuffed bat toy by a barstool’s leg.

The Wayne family’s butler (and his cat’s namesake), Alfred Pennyworth, looks up from where he’s tending a crepe in a pan on the stove. How the man manages to look impeccable so early in the morning, particularly in a three-piece suit, is a mystery Damian has yet to solve. By comparison, it makes him feel a bit shoddy in his green sweatshirt and black sweatpants. He can’t feel too badly, however, as it was only upon Father’s repeated cajoling that he make himself comfortable around the Manor that he chose his attire.

“I’ve not seen him this morning, Master Damian. Perhaps the prospect of his morning kibble would attract him?”

“Perhaps,” Damian agrees amiably. He heads to the small room off the side of the kitchen where Titus and Alfred’s kibble and bowls are kept. He shakes the bag of cat food and looks around, but Alfred doesn’t skitter into the room. Neither, for that matter, does Titus. Aloud, he says, “Strange.”

He pours out the correct allotments of kibble, regardless, and returns to the kitchen proper.

“No luck,” he informs Pennyworth.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up. Members of this family always do.” There seems to be an improper amount of amusement in Pennyworth’s statement. Damian’s suspicion is only confirmed when the older man continues with, “Master Timothy and Master Jason are both in the Manor this morning. Master Jason suffered some injuries during last night’s patrol, but will recover given a suitable measure of rest.”

“And why is Todd _here_?” Damian responds.

It’s not as much of an oddity as it might once have been, but Todd staying at the Manor is by no means a common occurrence. Usually, the hooligans he calls Outlaws will retrieve him if he’s injured.

“As he was unconscious at the time, I don’t believe Master Timothy gave him much choice.”

“Tt.” Damian again looks around the kitchen floor, but his pets haven’t appeared. “Breakfast?”

“Another 10 minutes, I should say.”

“I believe I will track Alfred down then.” Damian starts to head out of the kitchen, but pauses when Pennyworth speaks.

“If you should see one of your brothers, or your father, please alert them that breakfast will be ready when they come downstairs.”

“If I do, I shall,” he says, and Pennyworth nods.

Damian heads first for his room. Alfred’s cat tree is unoccupied, as is Titus’ massive dog bed. A quick check of favorite hiding spots and perches reveals no animals either.

Grayson’s room, currently unoccupied by the man himself as he’s off in Bludhaven, is also unoccupied by feline or canine.

He doesn’t get the chance to search Drake’s room as Drake himself comes out of it, still clad in his red-striped, button-up pajama set. Yawning, the other boy grunts something unintelligible about coffee, ungrateful brothers, and (if Damian heard correctly) pineapples.

“Have you seen Alfred? The cat?” he asks, even though he’s not certain the answer will be understandable.

“N’ss this mooooorning,” Drake responds, interrupting himself with a yawn. He shuffles past Damian, obviously having used up his capacity for human interaction for the morning. Damian rolls his eyes, but allows him to move past him. Remembering his promise, he calls out, “Pennyworth said breakfast is in ten minutes.”

He gets another garbled series of words for his efforts, but Damian acknowledges to himself that he successfully completed his assigned mission.

And it’s as he turns back around that he spots the tip of a black tail slip out of sight past a doorway.

 _The doorway to Todd’s guest room_.

“Ya khara,” he hisses under his breath, the Arabic curse leaving him in a rush. A little louder, he chances, “Alfred!”

But the cat doesn’t reappear at his command, and Damian is faced with a choice. Leave Alfred to whatever fate he might discover at Todd’s hands (a man who at one point tried to murder most of the family), or attempt to rescue his foolhardy pet from the situation he willingly placed himself in.

In the end, even if he now trusts Todd (to a _very limited_ extent), Damian knows he has no option but to do as Robin always does: Rescue the innocent.

Easing the heavy wooden door open further, Damian slips into the shadows behind it with the ease of practice. He lets his eyes adjust briefly before assessing the situation. And then slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle another curse that begs to slip past his teeth.

Titus is at the end of the bed, curled up next to Todd’s blanket-covered feet and snoring peacefully. The Great Dane’s massive head is buried beneath one paw, which twitches briefly as Damian walks further into the room before stilling.

As his dog is not in mid-peril (and _is_ a lost cause), Damian looks around for Alfred.

Said cat who’s in the process of leaping onto the bed near Todd’s hip.

“Alfred,” Damian can’t stop himself from hissing.

Alfred flicks his right ear, but otherwise ignores him. Instead, he carefully picks his way across the covers, aiming for Todd’s head. He’s using the tiny, mincing steps he favors when stalking houseflies through the Manor.

It’s only then that Damian starts paying attention to Todd.

The older boy is curled in on himself beneath the dark gray duvet cover. Both of his hands are clutching a light gray pillow that matches the two stuffed under his head. Stark white bandages peek out from where his bare chest shows above the covers. There’s a bandage just above his left eyebrow, which is starting to stain a light crimson as whatever wound it’s hiding continues to spill blood. His black hair and white forelock are matted down to his skull (although it’s hard to tell if it’s from Drake sponging off his hair or sweat – probably both).

Todd shifts a bit with a low groan. Damian freezes, sure he’s been caught, but Todd settles without waking.

Undeterred by the movement, Alfred continues forward. Damian has never understood it, but when his cat gets something in his mind, either success or a trip to the vet are sure to follow. Right now, the “idea” appears to be using Todd’s arm as a balance beam.

Alfred even manages to nimbly traverse the man as Todd rolls onto his back, one arm still clinging to the pillow. Todd’s new location only makes Alfred grow bolder. He starts pawing at the sleeping man’s cheek, lightly batting at it with his right front paw.

And it’s as Damian’s wondering whether his cat has a death wish that he realizes Todd is crying. Apparently, the change in position has encouraged gravity to take a more proactive role, because tears spill from his closed eyes in slow waves. The whimpers are almost silent, but they’re there. Hiccupping breaths and delicate sniffing and wet cheeks.

Realizing that the infamous Red Hood is capable of such a basic thing as crying in his sleep is disconcerting. Realizing that Todd is suffering, even in his dreams, is downright _unsettling_.

Damian takes a step forward involuntarily. He’s not even sure what he plans to do. However, whatever he might have done becomes moot as three things happen in rapid succession.

First, Alfred curls up into the crook of Todd’s neck, where he immediately starts purring like a tiny motorcycle engine. Second, Titus rolls over and resituates himself alongside Todd’s blanket-covered legs, his massive head settling on the young man’s left hip. And third, Todd himself tenses up, every muscle in his body seizing like he’s been electrocuted.

Damian takes another few careful steps forward, preparing himself to move should Todd think he’s under attack. Responding in kind has been trained into their nature, so anything that happened wouldn’t be Todd’s fault, but Damian’s not willing to take that chance.

But, all at once, Todd just _relaxes_. He turns his cheek into Alfred, who rubs his head against him like he’s scenting a kitten. The sobs, quiet as they were, taper off after a few minutes.

“Huh,” Damian says, completely nonplussed by the chain of events.

Alfred, however, looks up at him with slitted eyes. Knowing that he’s caught Damian’s attention, the cat’s purring intensifies as he carefully nuzzles Todd’s cheek.

“Showoff,” Damian hisses. But he can’t deny that his pets’ instincts have put them exactly where they needed to be at exactly the right time. “Fine.”

Apparently, he didn’t hiss quietly enough, because Todd stirs.

“Dam…ian?” he slurs, eyes barely cracking open before falling shut again. He clumsily moves a hand up until he encounters Alfred’s fur, which he pets briefly before letting his hand fall back to the bed. “Mmmm.”

“Go back to sleep, Todd,” Damian whispers. “You’ve got the best guardians in Wayne Manor looking after you.”

“’kay.” Todd hums gently, seeming content to take Damian’s words at face value. It’s odd, but that fact makes Damian feel warm inside.

“Sleep already,” he huffs. “It hurts to look at you.”

“Love ya too, brat,” Todd whispers, and then his breathing’s evening out, blending in with Alfred’s purring and Titus’ resumed snoring.

Damian sputters fruitlessly for a moment. Annoyed at Todd (or maybe himself), he clicks his tongue and heads for the door. He leaves the door cracked open so Titus and Alfred can get out if they so please, but can’t force himself to leave immediately. Instead, Damian turns back to the bed.

Todd is still clutching the pillow with one arm, but his free hand has settled over Titus’ head. He also seems blissfully unaware that he might suffocate in Alfred’s fur if the cat so much as twitches a fraction of a millimeter toward him. While there’s no accounting for taste, Damian makes a mental note to shake a few special treats into his pets’ bowls as soon as he gets downstairs.

Smirking as he leaves, intent on finally getting breakfast, Damian whispers, “Rest well, Jason.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a comment if you did. They are cherished.


End file.
